


Sempiternal

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Church Sex, Introspection, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 22:31:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11496075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: "The moon lives in the lining of your skin."—  	Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems and Song of Despair





	Sempiternal

**Author's Note:**

> i was feeling nostalgic. dedicated to yougei and rain and dwe11s and all the other artists in this fandom that make it worth writing for. thank you.

The night was quiet and yet bright, lit by a half-realized moon that stood witness overhead to Chrollo as he traversed the perilous terrain. Stars twinkled and winked, the breeze sighing past his cheek. If Chrollo closed his eyes, he could pretend it was a caress. Cool, gentle, and understanding.

There was no need to pretend, though. Chrollo didn’t need to seek understanding in the wind. He didn’t need to chase gentleness before it passed him by. The touch and care he needed was right before him, hidden within the ruined heights of the long-forgotten church. Decrepit and crumbling, it still held salvation within its fallen walls. Salvation of a different kind, but salvation all the same.

“Hello?” he called out softly, navigating over rough brick and moldering wood, ducking beneath the fallen doorway. The sky overhead still peeked through the gapes in the roof, the moonlight flooding the sacrosanct place with its pale glow. “Are you here?”

A laugh answered him, one that seemed to echo though there were hardly many walls left to allow it. “Of course,” the voice said, a pair of golden eyes appearing in the dim darkness to guide Chrollo inwards. “Did you think I wouldn’t come? I’ll be hurt if you think so little of me, Chrollo, especially when I adore you so.”

Chrollo smiled and let out his own laugh, quiet and soft under the weight of the holy rot around them. He held his coat tighter to his form, moving closer to the man perched upon the altar ahead. “Sometimes I just can’t tell with you,” he admitted, smiling when Hisoka let out an affronted scoff. “Couldn’t you have found somewhere else to sit? That’s hardly polite.”

Hisoka glanced down, tapping at the rotting tabernacle with his nails. It made a dull thud, rhythmic in the low light. “I don’t think God has been in this place for quite some time, so who would I offend?” he answered after a moment of tapping, meeting Chrollo’s eyes with a contemplative smile. “But, on the other hand, perhaps God has returned for tonight. You do carry an air of the divine with you wherever you go. I can’t imagine God not following.”

“As eagerly as you do?” Chrollo posed, pausing in front of the altar to take in his midnight companion. Even in the darkness, Hisoka was clad in the colors of day. His hair caught the moonlight like illuminated blood, his eyes like polished pieces of citrine. Though he sat on the altar, leg propped up under his arm, a foot still remained on the floor almost as if he weren’t fully committed to the act of desecration.

Chrollo cocked his head and smiled softly when Hisoka met his eye, feeling far more content than he should while in the presence of the man the troupe seemed to hate so ardently. “I don’t think even God could boast of pursuing you as eagerly as I do,” Hisoka said, shifting to face Chrollo fully, his hands reaching out to ghost along Chrollo’s sleeves. They settled on his upper arms, as gentle as the wind but with intent enough to cut.

“And yet,” Chrollo said, lifting his hand to cup Hisoka’s thick forearm, “you want to tempt fate by having us meet here. You really are despicable, aren’t you?” He went easily when Hisoka tugged him closer, his knees just brushing the rotten wood of the altar. “Just like the others say.”

The grin that stretched across Hisoka’s lips was patently him in every way, deplorable and lewd and in full acceptance of what he was. “And what does it make you, I wonder,” Hisoka teased, bringing his fingers to the fastened top of Chrollo’s coat, “that you came here so willingly when I offered?”

Cool air brushed Chrollo’s skin, its touch a near physical thing as his chest was bared to Hisoka’s hungry sight. What did it make him? Chrollo didn’t have an answer. He hadn’t really pondered it in any great amount, his curiosity reserved for other things. The zipper went lower and lower, Hisoka’s knuckles now level with Chrollo’s navel. Chrollo’s cheeks began to heat up as Hisoka’s eyes grew wide, his free hand fastening itself to Chrollo’s hip to pull him even closer.

“Oh, Chrollo,” the man crooned, sounding filthy under the light of the moon and the witness of God. “What on earth are you wearing for me?”

Chrollo bit his lip and didn’t protest as Hisoka pulled his coat from his shoulders, leaving him bare and open to the probing, assessing touch of the wind. The man’s hands dipped downwards, dragging along every strap and bit of lace crisscrossing Chrollo’s body. They settled somewhere on his hips, squeezing him firmly as if to make sure that Chrollo really was there, that this wasn’t some beautiful dream. “I thought you would like it,” Chrollo said simply, because there really wasn’t much more of a reason than that. He met Hisoka’s wandering eye easily, smiling and cocking his head once he had caught it. “It’s a little cold like I thought it might be, but I didn’t think that would be a problem for long.”

Hisoka’s fingers hooked around a few of the thin black straps of the body suit, tugging them as if to test their strength. They held firm, but Chrollo knew they wouldn’t for long if Hisoka really wanted them gone. “You’re absolute perfection,” Hisoka breathed, his praise as good as a prayer in the forgotten church. “How long do I have you for?” he asked, dragging Chrollo in to settle against his chest, Hisoka’s lips already marking his favorite spot along Chrollo’s throat. “How long can I have you until the others come running?”

Closing his eyes, Chrollo sighed, tangling his fingers through Hisoka’s thick red hair. Not long enough. Never long enough. “They don’t know I’m gone,” he said aloud, moving easily along with Hisoka as the man tugged him onto his lap, settling them back onto the altar that for all of its rot, for all of its inner flaws, still held steady beneath their combined weight. “A few hours, only. Daybreak at the latest.”

With his mouth against Chrollo’s skin, he was able to feel Hisoka’s disappointment. It chilled his skin just like the wind, Hisoka’s warm tongue lapping at him to erase the proof. “Never long enough,” he sighed, his words an echo of Chrollo’s thoughts. “What I wouldn’t give for an unbroken moment with you.”

“A moment, or an eternity?” Chrollo laughed, pulling gently on Hisoka’s hair, seeking his lips with his own. Hisoka came easily enough, their lips meeting in a soft kiss that quickly became heated. Chrollo tightened his fingers in Hisoka’s hair, letting the man move them. His back met the moldering altar cloth and a warm body rolled against his own, the warmth enough to make Chrollo moan.

Breaking the kiss, Hisoka stared down at him, his handsome features only made perfect by the moonlight streaming down upon them. “An eternity wouldn’t suit us at all,” Hisoka said, voice low and rasped. “I think we’d both grow bored far too soon for it to matter.”

Chrollo set his hands on Hisoka’s chest, coaxing his shirt over his head and tossing it down onto the floor below. Warm skin greeted his hands, mindlessly soft though his muscles were as hard as cut marble. When Chrollo looked at Hisoka, an Adonis looked back, built for centuries but destined for just a moment. “Boredom isn’t what I’m worried about,” Chrollo answered, cupping Hisoka’s cheek in his hand. He stroked over a sharp cheekbone, knowing how easily it could shatter.

Hisoka just laughed, leaning down to capture his lips again in a deep, engulfing kiss. His hands worked at the straps of the outfit, tugging and pulling and then ripping when he failed to find the clasps. Chrollo grunted but didn’t complain. It was bound to happen, he thought, gasping into the kiss as a warm hand wrapped around him and began to stroke. Hisoka wasn’t patient, and Chrollo couldn’t care.

“Did you bring it?” Hisoka asked, freeing himself to the open air, his cock hard when he rolled against Chrollo’s thigh.

Shaking his head, Chrollo hooked a thigh around Hisoka’s hip. “I took care of it,” he said, cheeks burning when Hisoka immediately pressed his fingers to Chrollo’s entrance to check. They slipped inside easily, scissoring and moving just how Hisoka knew Chrollo liked. “J-Just hurry up and go ahead,” Chrollo gasped, closing his eyes to hide from Hisoka’s glee. His fingers dug into the rotten wood above his head, body taut like a bow and honed to Hisoka’s touch.

“Just because we’re pressed for time doesn’t mean you have to do it yourself,” Hisoka teased, lining himself up even as he spoke. “You know how much I love opening you up.”

Chrollo didn’t want to waste a moment of their time. Not on something like that. He cracked open his eyes and stared up at Hisoka, taking in the dips and divots of his strong chest, the way the shadows played across his skin. Though there was no light but for the moon above, Chrollo swore that Hisoka shined like stained glass, his hair a burning pane that illuminated, refracted. He swallowed and bit his lip as Hisoka began to press inside him, eyes falling to half-mast. He couldn’t tear his eyes from Hisoka.

“Chrollo,” Hisoka moaned lowly, the words rolling like amber through the night. “Chrollo, Chrollo, you feel so perfect.” He rolled his hips and set the pace to their usual brand of rough, Chrollo unable to hold back the sounds lingering in his throat. He wrapped his arms around Hisoka’s neck, delivering them to Hisoka’s ear.

“H-Hisoka,” he said brokenly, feeling the altar rock and shift in time to the rhythm. “God, Hisoka. Please.” The harder Hisoka fucked him, the more the straps began to fall away. Soon there would be nothing left between them but air and wind and light. A heady fire began to burn somewhere in the pit of his stomach, every caress of their bodies fanning it higher, higher. Chrollo buried his face in Hisoka’s shoulder, wishing he could become one with the moonlight against his lover’s skin. He wanted to burn cold.

Eternal, if only for the moment.

But there was nothing eternal about them now. Chrollo had done this too many times to think them anything but transient. Hisoka’s thrusts, the sweat on their skin, the breath they shared between them like the intimate secret of their nightly trysts— Every move they made, every single bruise, bite, and kiss was marked by the passage of the moon. They were westward bound, and no amount of begging would slow its steady pace.

“Chrollo,” Hisoka whispered, his voice a song in Chrollo’s ear. “Love. My angel. You’re so beautiful.”

“Hisoka,” he gasped, keening when a hand wrapped around his cock. Not an angel. Not an angel for this. Hisoka kissed him before Chrollo could protest more, a messy, uncoordinated press of teeth and tongue that felt as human as the shaking, splintering altar beneath them.

Chrollo came between a breath and a kiss, Hisoka’s name stamped to his lips and his eyes on the God who wasn’t there. He fisted his hands in Hisoka’s hair and wrapped his thighs around his trim waist, refusing to let Hisoka slow his frantic pace. So close. He felt so close to him, but somehow Chrollo couldn’t close the gap.

Hands like iron wrapped around Chrollo’s wrists, tearing him from Hisoka’s hair to pin them flat against the trembling altar. Golden eyes stared down at him, and Chrollo could only gasp as his nerves began to scream. The pace was desperate now, rougher and meaner than it had been before. Hisoka came inside him with a shudder and a groan, and for a moment, just a moment, Chrollo felt the divide lessen.

“I adore you,” Hisoka whispered in his ear, his breath quick and his eyes filled with undying want. “God, Chrollo. I wish the night would never end.”

Chrollo let out a ragged laugh, thighs numb and eyes wet. “God? You feel like praying now?” The altar had gotten its baptism, so maybe it wasn’t out of place to pray. An endless night, a moment of respite. They were easy enough wishes to grant, weren’t they?

But Hisoka shook his head, holding Chrollo to his body until there was nothing left to see but blood, light, and devotion.

If God were there, Chrollo knew he had already long looked away.


End file.
